Family Relations
by The Fritz
Summary: The bizarre antics of a family comprised of utterly mad people. Implications of Setsuka/Seishirou, Seishirou/Fuuma, Seishirou/Subaru, and Fuuma/Kamui.
1. 01

**Author's Notes:** The concept of Seishirou being Fuuma's beloved niisan was too terrifying for me _not_ to expand on. And that's all I have to say about that.

* * *

**Family Relations**

"You know, when you were first born, I contemplated killing you in your sleep because Mother kept paying more attention to you than me," Seishirou calmly told the boy sitting in front of him, his tone and language more than slighty disturbing for a person eight years of age. "But now that I have thought it through, perhaps having a little brother won't be so bad after all. It might even be entertaining."

"Murf," commented Fuuma, being otherwise occupied with gnawing on the head of his stuffed kitty.

"So," continued Seishirou, ignoring the fact that he was being ignored. "Let's get to know each other better. What do you enjoy?"

Fuuma stopped his chewing for a moment, and appeared to be deep in thought. His older brother found this to be an amusing improvement on his behaviour, and stared at him in fascination.

"Pretty," he said eventually. "I like pretty."

"So do I!" Seishirou remarked, smiling. "I see we already have a lot in common. How interesting. Now, what's your favourite colour?"

"Purple!" Fuuma chirped happily.

"Hmm. But purple is such an angry colour," Seishirou murmured, frowning slightly and tapping his chin. "Surely you'd prefer something more pleasant? Like green, for example."

"I like purple."

The three-year-old's voice was getting dangerously low and growly, Seishirou noticed. It was the kind of voice Fuuma used before he had the typical temper tantrum of a child his age, and if Mother found out that Seishirou had caused such a disturbance, he would be given a stern lecture and a lesson on how important family relations were.

Not that he minded the lesson part, exactly, but that was an entirely different matter.

"All right," he gave in. "You can like purple, and I'll like green. It would be bothersome if we both wanted the same things all the time, at any rate. Variety is wonderful and so on."

"I like pretty purple things," Fuuma agreed seriously.

Seishirou opened his mouth to make a remark on missing the point completely, but he was cut off by a whimsical and vaguely psychotic-sounding voice.

"My darlings! Mommy's home!"

Setsuka stood in the doorway, beaming with all the joy of a mother delighted to see her children finally getting along. She walked across the room and picked Fuuma up, who yawned and cuddled his kitty possessively.

"Welcome back, Mother. We were bonding," Seishirou told her dutifully.

"I'm so glad to see my precious little boys realizing the importance of family relationships," Setsuka cooed, running the fingers of her free hand through Seishirou's hair. "I would... hate to have to give you another lesson." She looked down at him meaningfully before resuming her maternal antics.

"Now, both of you be good and give Mommy her kisses."

Seishirou smiled pleasantly. Fuuma wrinkled his nose.


	2. 02

**Author's Notes:** This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but it seems that I've grown too attached to this family and will now be chronicling the wacky adventures they have in my head. This particular piece was written for Meffie-dearling, known as fin mefiant on this site. If you haven't read her stuff yet, hop to it.

* * *

Setsuka never lets the boys sleep apart. It's important to be comfortable in more ways than one with family, she says wisely, tucking the covers under Fuuma's chin and looking at Seishirou expectantly. Seishirou cheerfully complies with her silent demands and cuddles Fuuma, who complains at first but then grows peaceful. A bit too peaceful, Seishirou thinks, frowning as his sibling drools on his pajama sleeve. He wipes it off on an unused pillow and hopes that Fuuma will grow up soon, as with maturity comes less drooling and more pleasant things.

"Mommy's good little darlings," Setsuka says approvingly as they get settled. "Would you like a bedtime story?"

"Sperm donation go poof!" Fuuma requests.

"I agree with him, Mother," Seishirou adds, as if his brother's words were more than a questionable outburst. "That's our favourite one."

"Ah." Setsuka smiles. "You want to hear the tale of how I killed your father brutally. Well, it all began when I was a little girl, not much older than you..."


	3. 03

**Author's Notes:** Seishirou pulls a Godfather, and I regret nothing.

* * *

Fuuma is a good child, so when he turns three Setsuka bestows upon him a hobby horse. It's a wonderful present for a toddler, she thinks, and Fuuma agrees completely. He jumps on it gleefully, Kitten in tow, and for the next few days they gallop to unknown lands and have wild adventures.

"Isn't he just _precious_?" Setsuka squeals, clasping her hands together and nearly sparkling with sheer adoration.

Seishirou sulks. "Mother, don't you think a hobby horse is unmanly? He's going to grow up confused."

"Oh, Seishirou." She looks down at him and smiles gently. "He can be anything he wants to be."

"But--"

"And may I remind you, young man, that you happen to play with dolls? Dolls that become mutilated beyond all recognition, but dolls nonetheless."

"But I like to--"

"And that's perfectly fine! But your brother has something of his own now, and it won't do to have you being jealous. You were born first, and you'll always be Mommy's little angel."

"Yes, Mother," Seishirou replies, turning from her gaze so she cannot see the calculating look in his eyes.

* * *

Setsuka is in the kitchen as usual, humming softly as she makes breakfast. She forces herself to be as quiet as possible, however, for there's nothing she finds quite as endearing as the sounds of her sons' sleepy grumblings upon awakening. Her smile grows wider when she thinks of them stumbling into the room, mouths open and hands rubbing tired eyes.

At least, that's how it's supposed to go. Today it happens differently. She's cracking an egg on the side of a bowl when she hears a piercing shriek, followed by a thud and a loud roar.

"Oh dear," she says.

A moment later Seishirou staggers into the doorway of the kitchen, hair sticking out in every direction and expression oddly bewildered.

"Mother," he says, voice carrying great disbelief, "he _bit_ me. And he..."

Setsuka stares as he fumbles around and produces his favourite doll from one of his seemingly endless pajama pockets. The doll stares back at her despairingly, one eye ripped from its socket in a sad display of savagery.

Her maternal instinct now invoked completely, Setsuka quickly walks to the boys' shared bedroom and enters the scene to find Fuuma weeping on the bed, curled protectively around the severed head of his beloved horse. Next to him stands his feline companion, who apparently is playing the loyal guard, stuffed body bent into a perfect reflection of anger and malice.

"Oh dear," she repeats.

"Niisan killed horsey!" Fuuma wails, before his grief morphs into inexplicable rage. He sits up and gives a glare with watery eyes that could kill an elephant.

"And I'd do it again, too," Seishirou tells him smugly.

"_Seishirou_..." Setsuka warns, her tone deadly sweet.

"Kitten hates you," Fuuma informs his brother menacingly.

"Well how _nice_ for Kitten. I'm sure he just _adores_ you, considering I saw you impaling him with bits of glass the other day."

"_Seishirou_."

Horsey's untimely death is avenged through a particularly thorough spanking, while Fuuma is sentenced to a time-out. Both boys go without breakfast.


End file.
